The Serpent in the White Coat
I was in my office, calmly practicing a basic suture on a surgical simulator.
On the screen, the robotic arms guided the needle and thread with a fluid grace, a perfect, sterile dance. A work of art.
Minutes later, my boyfriend, Ethan, burst through the office door.
“Audrey!” he yelled, his voice raw. “Olivia’s critical, and you’re the only one who can perform the micro-dissection. The entire department is waiting for you! Her surgical window is less than an hour!”
His eyes were wide with a desperate hope.
I was the only surgeon in the country capable of performing a procedure at this level. My hands had been called “the hands of God.”
But I just gave a soft “hmm,” my attention still fixed on the simulator.
My parents stormed in right behind him. My mother grabbed my arm, her voice cracking with sobs.
“Audrey! That’s your sister! Can you really just stand by and watch her die?”
I gently pulled my arm away and held out my right hand for them to see.
This hand, the one that had performed countless medical miracles, was trembling. It was a slight tremor, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
“A shame. I started showing symptoms of an idiopathic tremor yesterday,” I said, my voice even. “Dad. Mom. This hand is useless now.”
1
The air in the room froze.
The expressions on their three faces morphed into sheer, unadulterated shock. They stared at my right hand, at the slight but fatal tremor that, for a top surgeon, was a career death sentence.
My mother’s lips trembled. “How… how could this happen? You were fine yesterday! Have you been working too hard?”
“The cause is unknown.” I pulled my hand back, tucking it into the pocket of my white coat. “Perhaps it’s fate.”
“Fate?” My father’s brow furrowed, his tone laced with reprimand. “Audrey, don’t be ridiculous! Are you… are you still holding a grudge against us?”
I didn’t answer, turning my gaze back to the simulator.
The year I turned eighteen, they found me living in a small town upstate and brought me to the Sloane family home.
It turned out that Olivia Sloane, the treasured daughter they had raised for eighteen years, was not their biological child.
I was.
My adoptive parents had passed away when I was young, and life had been a struggle. When I first arrived at the Sloane mansion, I was sensitive and insecure, a wildflower transplanted into a manicured garden.
It was Olivia who offered me the most warmth.
She taught me etiquette, bought me beautiful clothes, and defended me at every turn. She insisted we were real sisters and told me to feel at home.
My parents said the same, that Olivia was their daughter too, and that they couldn’t possibly love one more than the other. Because Olivia’s birth family was destitute, they couldn’t bear to send her away, so they decided to raise us both.
I was grateful to them, and grateful to Olivia. I studied relentlessly, desperate to become their pride and joy, vowing to protect our perfect family of four.
Until now.
Seeing my silence, my mother’s tears started to fall freely.
She screamed at me, her voice ragged. “Audrey! Is this resentment? Just because we showed Olivia a little more affection, you’re holding a grudge, and now you’ll let her die?”
“Have you forgotten how much she loves you?! When you were pulling all-nighters in med school, who was it that always brought you food to keep you going?!”
For a fleeting moment, her words still stung my heart.
Ethan rushed to my mother’s side, trying to steady her. “Mrs. Sloane, please, calm down. Audrey isn’t that kind of person!”
He then turned to me, his eyes filled with a deep, aching disappointment. “Audrey, I know you’ve been hurt, but Olivia is innocent in all of this! You can’t let your personal feelings cloud your duty as a doctor!”
My father, normally a composed university professor, had red-rimmed eyes. His voice was hoarse. “Audrey, even if your hand is injured, you could at least go in and supervise! Olivia is your sister. You can’t just watch her die!”
But I remained unmoved, my focus on the instruments before me.
My mother finally broke. She collapsed to her knees, her wails echoing in the hallway.
“How could I have raised such a cold, heartless daughter?! Olivia is so kind, she gave up so much for you, and now… now you’re going to kill her?”
Her cries were so piercing that they drew the attention of other staff members, who peered in from the hallway.
Their gazes, a mixture of confusion and contempt, fell on me. I simply offered a small, cold smile.
“I suppose it’s her time to go. There’s nothing I can do.”
With that, I sat back down and picked up the controls for the simulator. On the screen, the robotic arms began to move again. I was completely absorbed, as if the world outside my office had ceased to exist.
Seeing this display of utter indifference, my father swayed on his feet.
Ethan stared at me, his expression hardening with finality. He took a deep breath, as if making a monumental decision.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sloane, please, don't beg her anymore.”
He turned to my parents, his voice firm. “Let me do it.”
Ethan’s declaration was a lifeline, and my parents grasped it immediately.
“Ethan! You… are you sure you can do it?” my mother asked, clutching his hand.
Ethan glanced at my parents kneeling on the floor, then back at me. His face was a mask of profound empathy and sorrow.
“Audrey won’t do it, and I understand,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning. “She carries the burden of being ‘the hands of God.’ She can’t afford to fail. But I can’t stand by and watch Olivia die!”
His words were a masterstroke. On the surface, he was defending me, but in reality, he was crucifying me, painting me as a coward who would sacrifice her sister for her own reputation.
The whispers from my colleagues in the hall grew louder, their disdain for me thickening the air.
Ethan addressed my parents again, his voice ringing with conviction. “Mr. and Mrs. Sloane, please, trust me! I’ve assisted Audrey on every single one of her micro-dissections. I know the theory, I know the principles by heart. Please, allow me to combine her technique with traditional methods. Let me take this risk for Olivia!”
“Yes! Yes, my boy!” My father was weeping with gratitude. “Ethan, if you save Olivia, our family… we’ll give you half of our entire fortune!”
At the mention of money, I finally looked up from my simulator.
I watched my ecstatic parents and the noble, self-sacrificing Ethan, a silent calculation running through my mind.
Half the Sloane family fortune. At least a hundred million dollars.
But…
I rose slowly from my chair and looked at Ethan, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re going to use my technique? Have you been authorized?”
Ethan froze, his expression turning to one of pained disbelief. “Audrey Sloane! How can you be thinking about that at a time like this? A life is on the line!”
“Saving a life is one thing. Intellectual property is another.” I gave a dismissive shrug, my tone unyielding. “Without my authorization, if you so much as touch a scalpel using my methods, I will sue you into oblivion. You’ll never wear a white coat again.”
“You—!” Ethan’s face went pale with rage.
My father was trembling, pointing a finger at me. “Audrey Sloane! You’re being utterly unreasonable! Are you really going to let your sister die over money and patents?”
I looked at him, my own father, as if he were a complete stranger.
“You’d better decide quickly,” I said calmly. “The patient is running out of time.”
The seconds ticked by, each one punctuated by the growing murmur of the crowd in the hall. I felt no urgency at all.
“Fine! I agree!” my father finally choked out, his voice thick with defeat. “If you authorize the procedure, I’ll have my lawyers transfer half of my shares to you the moment it’s done!”
I smiled and pulled a small digital recorder from my pocket, pressing the record button. “Dad, could you repeat that for me? You are voluntarily gifting me half of your shares in Sloane Industries as a licensing fee for my patented technique.”
My father’s face turned a deep shade of purple, but he repeated the words, each one laced with humiliation.
Satisfied, I put the recorder away and nodded at Ethan. “Go on, then. I hope your hands are steadier than mine.”
Then, under the weight of my parents’ loathing and Ethan’s bitter disappointment, I walked out of the office.
I didn’t go home. I went to the coffee shop across from the hospital and ordered the blackest, most bitter coffee they had. Through the large window, I could see the lights of the surgical floor shining brightly against the night sky.
They got what they wanted.
And so did I.
For the next few days, I took a leave of absence.
The hashtags trended nationally: #HeiressFromHell, #DoctorDearest, #TheSerpentSloane.
My life story was excavated and put on public display. The internet spun a lurid tale of a “backwoods girl returns to the manor, torments her kind-hearted sister out of jealousy.” Olivia’s old social media accounts were unearthed, each post a carefully curated testament to how wonderful she had been to me, her gentle words painting me as an even more hideous monster.
I didn’t look at my phone. I stayed in my apartment, polishing an old picture frame over and over. Inside was a photo of a kind, scholarly-looking middle-aged man: my mentor, Professor Marcus Cole.
Three days later, the news broke. “Devoted Boyfriend’s Heroic Gamble Pays Off, Saves Fiancée’s Sister.” “A New God is Born! Dr. Ethan Cole Completes Impossible Brain Surgery!”
The reports lionized Ethan. Facing the cameras, he spoke with deep emotion. “I only did what anyone would do. Audrey is the love of my life. Her sister is my sister.”
His words only served to cast my own actions in a colder, more monstrous light. The online vitriol against me reached a fever pitch.
And then, an even bigger story dropped.
Veridian Medical Technologies, a giant in the medical device industry, announced a major strategic partnership with Dr. Ethan Cole to develop and promote an improved version of the micro-dissection technique and its associated surgical tools.
A week later, I received a call from the hospital’s chief administrator. His tone was not an invitation, but a summons.
“Audrey, tomorrow morning at nine, the hospital is hosting a city-wide neurosurgery conference. It will be live-streamed. As the patent holder for the original technique, your attendance is mandatory.”
I knew what it was. A public execution. They wanted me there to witness Ethan’s coronation.
The next day, I arrived at the hospital’s international conference center on time.
The hall was packed. The city’s top neurosurgeons, reporters from every major news outlet—the room was a galaxy of flashing camera lights.
As I walked in, my eyes were drawn to a scene in the center of the room that felt like a physical blow.
Ethan and Olivia, who was seated in a wheelchair, were surrounded by a throng of journalists. My parents stood beside them, beaming.
A perfect family of four.
Suddenly, just a moment before the conference was set to begin, Olivia turned to the cameras and began to sob.
“Everyone, I’m so sorry to take up your valuable time,” she began, her pale face streaked with tears, looking fragile and beautiful. She had everyone’s undivided attention. “But I have to reveal the truth today!”
“My aneurysm… it wasn’t an accident! It… it was caused by long-term poisoning… by my sister, Audrey Sloane!”
The announcement was a bombshell.
The room erupted. Every camera, every phone, every pair of eyes swiveled to face me.
Olivia’s sobs grew louder as she clutched our parents’ hands. “From the day she came to our home, she bullied me, she tried to push me out! I endured it all for the sake of our parents, for the peace of our family! But I never thought… I never thought she would be so cruel as to try and take my life!”
Ethan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, as if giving her the strength to speak her truth. He then produced several lab reports. “I didn’t want to say anything before, for fear of ruining Audrey’s reputation. But after the surgery, I obtained conclusive evidence. Olivia has been systematically poisoned with a chronic neurotoxin! I cannot stand by and let her hurt Olivia anymore!”
The live-stream chat exploded. The hashtag #HeiressPoisonsSister shot to number one trending worldwide.
I stood at the entrance of the hall, trapped in the crossfire of a thousand hateful stares. Reporters surged toward me, shoving microphones in my face.
“Dr. Sloane, did you poison your sister?”
“Why would you do something like that? Was it jealousy?”
“Do you have any right to call yourself a doctor?”
I ignored them all and walked toward my biological parents.
I looked at them, my voice trembling just slightly.
“Dad. Mom.”
“Do you also believe that I am that kind of person?”
My question hung in the air, creating a moment of dead silence.
“Audrey, we gave you a chance…” my mother wept. “Olivia has proof… We… we are so disappointed in you!”
My father, his face a mask of sorrow, turned away, unable to even look at me.
“See? A true monster, even her own parents can’t stand by her!”
“She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing! The Sloanes should never have taken her in!”
“They need to revoke her medical license, permanently!”
The venomous whispers washed over me. I stood there, in the spotlight, utterly alone, a criminal already convicted by the court of public opinion.
Just then, several uniformed police officers entered the hall.
Their faces were grim, their voices loud and clear.
“We received a call about an intentional poisoning. Who made the report?”
Every head turned back to me. I could see the faint, triumphant smiles on Ethan and Olivia’s faces.
Under the sharp gaze of the officers and in the suffocating silence of the room, I calmly raised my hand.
“Officer,” I said.
“I’m the one who called.”
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